


the curious case of clint’s kleptomania

by nightwideopen



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Animal Transformation, Bingo, Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019, Clint Barton Bingo 2019, Established Relationship, Fluff, General fondess, M/M, Nesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 04:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18491719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwideopen/pseuds/nightwideopen
Summary: Clint can’t seem to stop stealing things. And it’s fine until it isn’t.





	the curious case of clint’s kleptomania

**Author's Note:**

> **CBB Square filled: Supernatural**
> 
> **BBB Square filled: Winterhawk (Bucky/Clint)**

Clint often runs around as though Satan is personally investing time in nipping at his heels. He tries to tone it down after Tony offhandedly refers to him as a headless chicken. The bird jokes are plentiful enough without that particular fuel being poured into that particular fire. The problem lies wherein Clint is more often than not doused in the sensation that someone is chasing him. Paranoia, hypervigilance, and lifetime’s worth of trying not to get caught does that to a person. But he also has to try to tamp down the overwhelming urge to shift into his hawk form and fly as fast and far away as he can from danger.

Bucky helps. Bucky makes him feel safe. Bucky will wrap him up in strong arms and kiss him hard until the flight melts right out of him. Sometimes, if Clint is lucky, if they have time, they’ll both shift and Clint will squawk unhappily until Bucky has no choice but to give in and nuzzle him, let Clint burrow into his thick black fur and find comfort there. It’s easier that way, for both of them, to just give into their instincts and do what feels right instead of overthinking everything and having to use _words._ Maybe Bucky will nip at him and Clint will fly out of the house and give chase. And maybe Natasha and Steve will watch them darting around the grounds like children, amused looks on their faces.

Or sometimes Clint will shift on his own and Bucky will groom his feathers for him. Bucky doesn’t understand it, and Clint doesn’t expect him to when Bucky’s wolf instincts and habits are far different from his own, but he does it anyway.

It’s not a cure, but Bucky helps where he can, and that’s all Clint can ask of him.

But then the stealing starts.

Well, not really _start_ , per sé. Clint has always been a tiny bit of a kleptomaniac. Even way back when he was a kid and _had_ to steal things to survive, he'd always wanted a little something extra for himself. Sometimes it costed him food, shelter. Other times he went to bed with an extra treat in his pocket, even if he’d later find no interest in it.

He’s done his best in the years since the Avengers all decided to move in together to not take things that aren’t his. And all things considered, Clint has done alright. He’s too scared to take anything from Natasha, and all of Tony’s knick knacks are carefully guarded behind his carefully encrypted bedroom door that only Pepper has access to. Steve doesn’t have very many things lying around, other than his shoes, but Clint definitely doesn’t want those. And Bruce, well… the Hulk might have a soft spot for Clint but Bruce finds him too twitchy to associate with. His words.

And then they moved upstate, and then Sam and Wanda and Vision moved in. And then Bucky and–

Well.

Wanda collects things. Like actually collects. And she keeps them. She has cool trinkets and cute photos and lovely decorations that make her room say _This is Wanda’s space!_ And he loves that about her.

But Clint accidentally steals a colorful tapestry off of her wall and a few of her rings and her fairy lights and Clint briefly thinks that maybe he should’ve been a magpie instead of a hawk.

Sam is much the same, more normal (human, Bucky reminds him, not shifters like them) than most of the Avengers can account for. But a good chunk of his possessions that are important to him stay in D.C. where he _actually_ lives. But he always gets something for himself when he goes on an international mission. He picks something up from every country he goes to and Clint finds it adorable and tells him so several times. Sam is sentimental. It’s nice. It’s refreshing.

Clint swipes a few of his many, _many_ shot glasses.

And magnets.

And postcards.

It’s an accident, honest.

•

Vision doesn’t collect anything.

He’s really boring.

Like Steve.

•

The thing is that Bucky doesn’t technically live with Clint. Sure, they’re all housemates based on the simple fact that they live in the same building. And there aren’t enough floors for it to feel semi-personal like it did at the Tower, but still. They had their own spaces. Plus, Clint and Bucky are _dating_. Like for real. Like in the way that everyone teases that they’re properly mates and they tell everyone to fuck off because it’s too close to being true. And Bucky taking all of his clothes and stuff and things and dumping them into Clint’s bedroom would mean that they’re _living together_. And that’s commitment. And they’re not really there yet.

But that’s okay. They’ve talked about it.

What’s not okay is that Clint keeps sneaking into Bucky's room when he’s out and nosing through his clothes. He never takes anything, wouldn’t do that, and doesn’t go through Bucky's drawers or bags or peek under his bed the way everyone else is okay with him doing. He just… opens Bucky’s closet, _literally_ noses through it.

Clint knows that it’s because of Bucky’s scent, but he likes to convince himself that it’s not.

“Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” The ceiling beeps to alert Clint that F.R.I.D.A.Y. is online and listening. “When was the last time–” Wait, no. Clint barely knows what month it is. “I mean, how long ago was it that Bucky wore this hoodie? The grey one that says Barnes on the back?”

“My archives indicate that it was approximately two years ago that Mr. Barnes wore that particular sweatshirt.”

Clint smiles. “Perfect.”

•

Except that now he has one thing, he has to have another.

And another.

And another...

•

Clint is guiltily looking at the pile of stolen items in the back corner of his closet when Bucky startles him. He slams the closet door shut.

“Can you _make noise_ when you walk? Jesus, you’re wearing combat boots. Are you sure you’re not actually a ghost?”

Bucky ignores him in favor of wrapping his arms around Clint’s waist from behind and pressing his nose to where Clint’s shoulder meets his neck.

“What are you hiding in there? Is it Steve?”

“What? No, it’s not Steve.” Clint turns around as best he can with a clingy supersoldier on him. Around him. All over him. “It’s nothing.”

“C’mon, Barton. If you can’t show me then who can you show?”

Bucky's nosing at Clint’s neck and sniffing at him possessively and Bucky knows how Clint feels about that and he thinks his knees are starting to shake. Goddamn Bucky Barnes and his crafty convincing ways.

“Fine, but you can’t be mad.”

“Deal.”

Clint extracts himself from Bucky enough to get the closet door open again. What Bucky sees is… well.

It had started with a blanket that Natasha bought for him way back when. It used to be fluffy and it used to be a dark purple. But now it’s faded and flat and sits underneath the pile of stolen things that he’s taken from Wanda and Sam and Bucky alike. Even one of Steve’s shoes is in there. And a wrench that Tony left under the couch when he fell asleep on it a few months ago. And… and one of Bruce’s CDs.

But it’s mostly Bucky things.

There’s a duvet that Bucky thought he lost somehow. And a decorative pillow from the couch in his room. And hoodies that he hasn’t worn in months. There’s photos and gifts and things given and things taken.

“Clint…” Bucky says quietly. “Are you _nesting?_ ”

It’s an accusation. And it’s offensive. And it’s presumptuous. Clint balls his hands into fists and gets ready to turn angrily at Bucky, but–

But it’s true.

“Oh.”

It’s combination of instincts and an inexplicable urge to make a safe, comfortable space. He doesn’t know who for. Himself? Bucky? How the hell did he not realize? It’s not like he’s pregnant with little hawk babies. It’s not like he _could_ be. Yet here he is, building a nest in the back of his closet with all the things he’s snatched from his friends over the past year or so.

“What the fuck?” he asks rhetorically.

Bucky laughs. “It’s okay. It happens. Come on, don’t want it to go to waste.”

Bucky pulls on his hand until Clint follows him into the closet. He sits them down right in the middle of everything, where the hoodies and pillows and blankets provide the most cushioning. Bucky makes Clint settle between his legs so that Clint has to look up to see him. He might be taller, but he does enjoy the moments when he gets to feel encompassed and safe like this.

“It’s weird, though, right? This is super weird that I did this.”

“Not weird.” Bucky presses a kiss to the top of Clint’s head, then rests his chin on it. “Or at least, not any weirder than anything else you do. Where the hell did you even get all this stuff?”

“Klepto,” Clint explains.

“Ah.”

Bucky pets at Clint’s stomach and he swears he’s going to start purring or something – Bucky swears that he did one time. Maybe this is why he did it. His subconscious knows him better than he does, that all he wants is for Bucky to wrap him up and envelop him and be all around him always. Bucky noses at Clint’s neck again. Then his teeth replace his nose and really it’s not Clint’s fault that he shivers all over.

“Stop that.”

“What? It’s not like Sam’s shot glasses are judgin’.”

And. Well. He’s right. But it’s the principle of the thing.

“There’s a perfectly good bed like, ten feet away.”

“It’s more like fifty. Since when are you _not_ the lazy one?” Bucky just goes back to nipping at Clint’s neck. But then he stops. And he hears what Clint isn’t saying. “Aw. You don’t wanna mess up your nest? That’s sweet.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

Clint tilts his head back to see Bucky’s face. It appears as though he’s telling the truth.

“It really is sweet,” Bucky says.

If you ask Clint, he would say that it’s not often that Bucky – or anyone for that matter – can leave him speechless. It’s a lie, and only Bucky knows it. But he doesn’t say anything when Clint opens his mouth to retort, give a sarcastic comment, defend himself, and nothing comes out. He just smiles, like it’s perfectly fine that Clint is so defenseless around him. It’s not. It’s terrifying. But Bucky makes it okay. He just noses at Clint’s forehead and presses a kiss there like it’s _fine._

And maybe it is.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/616clint).  
> This is my [Tumblr](https://nightwideopen.tumblr.com).  
> And here is a [shareable post](https://nightwideopen.tumblr.com/post/184235321014) for this fic.  
> Comments and kudos are beyond appreciated. Thank you for reading!


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